


A Study in Gold

by Jaelijn



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Developing Friendships, First Meetings, Gen, Gentlemen Thieves and Detectives, Inspired by Sherlock Holmes and Arsène Lupin, POV First Person, Vila's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 11:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: No business making a big name for yourself as a thief; that just means you get caught all the more quickly.A Victorian AU.
Relationships: Vila Restal & Kerr Avon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Rebels and Fools





	A Study in Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, here is the last of my stories from [Rebels and Fools issue #3](https://rebelsandfools.tumblr.com/post/186885179223/rebels-and-fools-issue-3), in which I recall my fandom beginnings and draw inspiration from Sherlockian Victoriana. :P
> 
> Something I wanted to toy with a little, but have no real intention to develop further. I hope you find this little one-shot as entertaining to read as it was to think up.

London, that great cesspool into which all criminals and pickpockets of the Empire are irresistibly drained. And no wonder – there was no living to be made in small towns for the likes of me. In the great capital, you’d find posh gentlemen at every corner. Well, perhaps not every corner, but make no mistake – just because the friendly ladies were there didn’t mean the gentle folk weren’t. Made some of my best money, hanging around until they were drunk on bliss afterwards and not watching their pockets. Not that any of them ever seemed that good at watching their pockets in the first place, if you asked me, which no one ever did – but then I liked it that way. No business making a big name for yourself as a thief; that just means you get caught all the more quickly.

Like that one they were all talking about, though they hadn’t caught him yet. Strange bloke; they didn’t seem sure whether he was a detective or a criminal. He’d had his hand in some of the police cases, but rumour on the street was that he’d helped out a thief or four in planning a hit. The name whispered on the street was a nondescript alias. But he was an amateur, anyway, going for fame or perhaps infamy like that. Full anonymity was always better, in my line of work.

Blake didn’t think so, of course – but Blake was a troublemaker, right? He thought he could stir people up enough to rally under his name. Shouldn’t have been talking to him at all, I should, but Cally’d introduced us and I owed Cally. Besides, when he wasn’t going on about a revolution, Blake turned out to be good company. As long as you didn’t let him talk you into something crazy.

All right, so I liked the challenge. ‘s not like I didn’t have reason to be around the area anyway, with the new underground railway and people hurrying this way and that. It was good for business. I’d done my fair share of breaking and entering, of course, but it’s one thing to do it for doss money, and another because Blake was curious and wanted to know who the gent was and what he was like. As if he’d be a recruit for Blake’s Cause! But I suppose Blake thought strange folk might want to stick together. I had my doubts, but here I was anyway.

Hadn’t been easy tracking him in the first place, I tell you. Maybe he was getting infamous in certain circles, but it wasn’t like he’d publicised his real name and address. But I’d called in some favours, people who knew people he’d given a hint or three and I was pretty sure I had him. His place didn’t look like much. Nor did he, to be perfectly fair. A damn sight better, both, than the kind I was used to, but altogether not particularly special. He was the kind of person that liked to pretend they were tall – all the leanness and smooth lines of the suits and the tophats when I’d wager he wasn’t much taller than me.

I watched him go out, waited around a bit to make sure he wasn’t just nipping ‘round the corner for a newspaper, and when he didn’t come back, made my way inside. I’d like to say that the lock was a challenge, but it wasn’t. He can’t have thought much could touch him. If I’m honest – which I am not, generally speaking – the lack of security made me wonder whether I had the wrong man, after all, but how many people like him could there be, even in a place like London? Well, when I was inside the doubts vanished. I knew immediately there was a safe somewhere – possibly even a strong room – but I couldn’t tell where.

That – now that was a real challenge, worthy of my skill.

Blake might have sent me to talk to the fellow, or spy him out, or some such, but I have my own motivations, thank you very much. If the owner of this unassuming flat really had been involved in all the things that had been rumoured about him, then there’d be something valuable to be got here, something that could keep me fed and in doss for months, years, even. Something _he_’d hardly miss, from the looks of the place. But I had to find the strongroom first.

I did it, too, I’ll have you know. All right, so it didn’t go entirely to plan, but I found the room, and after I’d done that, the door was child’s play. Only I’d barely stepped inside when:

“And who might you be?” a sardonic voice drawled behind me.

I spun around, of course, but there he was, leaning casually against the strongroom door like he wasn’t blocking the exit. He’d dropped off the hat, but was still carrying his stick and hadn’t even taken off the gloves. I was in big trouble.

“Nobody, really,” said I, “don’t mind me. Just a harmless fellow, me. I’ll be leaving now. Was on my way out anyway, Mister.” I babble when I’m nervous. It’s one of my faults, I’m told, but there’s not much need for social graces in my line of work. If I have to talk to any people when I’m out working it’s usually a bad day anyway.

He smiled, a slow spreading of his lips that bared his teeth. He began to pull off his gloves, but kept blocking the door and pretending he didn’t know that I knew what he was doing. “With the contents of this room, no doubt,” he commented dryly.

Wasn’t going to confirm that, was I, even if he had caught me red-handed. “Look, Mister, I haven’t taken anything. You can check if you like. If you’ll just let me go, I won’t be back either – ‘twas an honour, getting to work this vault of yours, won’t insist on the pay…”

“Avon.”

“Eh?”

“My name is Avon, not ‘mister’. And you can relax, I am not in the habit of turning petty thieves in to the police.”

“Petty thieves!” Charming, that was! I might not have much, but I do have my professional pride.

He raised his eyebrows. “Now, why don’t we make this discussion just a little more civilised by sitting down before the fire. Then you can tell me exactly why a thief would be interested in my flat, and _how _you found that vault.”

“I’d rather just leave, if it’s all the same to you…”

“It’s not, and you will not – unless you want me to change my mind about the constables?”

Well, that was a blatant threat if I’d ever heard one. At least he wasn’t waving that stick about, just his bare hand. Nasty things, walking sticks – you could kill a man with those. “A’right,” I said, though it wasn’t, and he backed away from the vault door, mockingly indicating an armchair by the fire. He kept himself between me and the exit. I suppose he thought I might run, and I might’ve too, if he’d given me half a chance. But I don’t go in for violence and he waited very carefully until I was seated, then quickly sealed the strongroom back up and came over to sit down.

I’d been right about his size – not much taller than me. Better fed, perhaps, but a good deal leaner, too, no muscles to speak off. Screamingly upper class, him – Avon, he’d said, and at least that confirmed that I’d come to the right place. I might not know much, but I know how to get information that no one else can get, and the alias he worked under didn’t fool me for a moment.

He was scanning me with an appraising look, like he found me fascinating – perhaps like one of those animal specimens I’d seen down at the docks. Best I could probably hope for from here on was ending up in a cage. “You know who I am, then,” he said.

“Oh, that. Don’t tell me you were trying to keep it a real secret. I’ve seen you vault – you couldn’t build that and be so lunatic.” Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

He just smiled again, sending a shiver down my spine. “What interests me, at present, is what made _you _break in here.”

“Damfino,” I muttered under my breath, regretting ever listening to Blake, “Cove I know wanted to know ‘bout you.”

“Is that so.”

“Yeh. But I’m not for taking orders, and I knew you had to have one of those somewhere around here, so I wanted to have a look. I’m a bit of a… what’s the term.”

“Well now, you’re not a petty thief, anyway.” Avon rose, and for a moment I thought he’d hit me, after all, but he just put the stick and gloves away and walked over to the door, where he’d left a bag. “I wasn’t expecting company, but I think it will suffice.” And he pulled out a couple of wrapped up pastries, and let me tell you, my mouth watered just at the sight. I didn’t think gents like him liked pastries – poor man’s food, they are – but they looked a damn sight better than the watery gruel I’d been able to afford of late.

Avon tossed one to me, still in the wrapper, and wandered back to the other chair. He put the second pastry down on the cushions and attended to the fire first, stirring it up to a warming blaze that cast strange shadows about the room. I barely noticed Avon sitting down – I was half through the pastry before I told myself to stop wolving it down, to make it last.

“Thanks,” I said, and meant it. Strange fellow he was, that was sure.

He watched my eating with a frown. “Yes, well. Consider it your payment for making it this far. Now, perhaps you will do me a favour?”

I swallowed hard on a bite. Spitting it out with shock’d have been a waste. “A favour? What kind of favour? ‘s a favour that got me into this mess, you know. I’d rather just leave.”

“Just who sent you?”

“Nobody. Just a chap I chat to in the bar. Proper anarchist, he is.”

“_Blake_?” Avon laughed abruptly and very shortly. “Blake sent you?”

“Oh, heard of him, you have?”

“In a manner of speaking. Thank you for the confirmation.” Avon picked at his own pastry, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to eat it. “He is starting to take an interest, then?”

“He’s a drunk fool, thinking he can take on the Empire with the five or so folk that’ll listen to him rant.”

“Hm,” Avon said, non-committedly, “is that your professional assessment?”

“‘s my personal assessment. My professional assessment is to stay the hell away from him ‘cause he’s trouble.” Just look at what he’d got me into.

Avon bared his teeth again. “And what is your professional assessment of _me_?”

He’d startled me with the question, or I’d never’ve been caught out on the truth. “That you appear to be clever, but having your name, alias, whatever, and face out there is stupid. Sooner or later, they’ll get fed up with you and throw you into gaol. Be lucky you haven’t messed around with murder yet, or they’d’ve hung you.”

“Hanged,” he corrected absently. Strangely, he didn’t seem upset at my pronouncement. “You’re right, perhaps, but it has served its purpose.”

“And what’s that? Anonymity is the way to go, if you don’t mind me saying. Perhaps they have a description of your clothes or face or a voice to persecute, but they sure won’t have a name.”

“And that, I assume, is why you haven’t told me yours.”

“Aye.”

“Well, I assume it would be as fake as your accent.”

“What!”

“Come now. Even I can do a better street slang than this – certainly one more consistent.” He passed me his pastry, of which he had barely eaten a quarter. “I fancy I can recognise a man of some education, even if he pretends to have none. Eat up.”

I didn’t, staring at him with undisguised suspicion. “I’ve had it. What do you want from me, if you’re not calling the constables? And just who do you think you’re fooling – you knew I was there. You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”

“Ah, you are beginning to show your true colours.” For the first time, he looked genuinely pleased. “To business, then. I have a job for which I might like the assistance of someone of your… expertise.”

“A job? You detained me and fed me to recruit me?”

“_You _broke into _my _flat. I could have given you a beating and turned you over to the constables. Instead, I am offering you an in on a job that could make you rich beyond your dreams. You may consider the food a down payment, Restal.”

“Hey, how did you–!” I cut myself off, realising what he’d done, but it was too late.

He smirked. “Yes, I thought it had to be you. Now we are even, and if you’re prepared to listen, I will make it worth your while.”

“Dangerous, this job of yours, is it?”

He shrugged. “It’s not without danger.”

“Yeh. Shouldn’t have expected a straight answer from the likes of you. As bad as Blake, you are. What do you think you’re doing, anyway, making a name for yourself? Are you planning to get caught? And why should I trust you, eh?”

“I enjoy the challenge, and I plan to be long out of the country before the police realise what I have really done.”

“Yeah, and it’ll be me in gaol instead of you. I’m leaving. Thanks for the food.”

“Restal,” he said again, stopping me in my treks halfway out of the armchair.

I sagged back down, knowing very well what was going on now. I’d been had, and had good.

“I don’t need a scapegoat,” he went on. “I need a partner, one with a talent for locks. But if you walk out of this room without hearing me out, a note will arrive at the Yard in the morning, detailing exactly who London’s most notorious thief is, and it won’t be _my_ name on that note.”

“Fine. If you put it like that.”

“I knew you’d see sense. It’ll be worth your while, Restal.”

“Might as well call me Vila, then. I’d only offer to my friends, but I’ll hear ‘Restal’ often enough after they’ve locked me up.”

“Oh, we might become friends yet.”

Couldn’t say that I believed him then. “You think so?”

“I think, with your talents and mine, there might be a very profitable future ahead of us.”


End file.
